Colors of Chaos

Wisdom in Simplicity. How we seek after great truths, strive for knowledge, eager to attain some elusive greatness . But I am finding that often God speaks in a whisper, and often it is in the ordinary things of our days. As my children and I have studied the magnificence of our Creator, and the majesty with which He has poured forth himself into all of creation...it only takes a moment, a stopping to observe, a lingering to ....see. So many of my days reflect a certain chaos. Not really full blown mahem, but more of a crazy mix of joys, emotions, frustrations, hurts, silliness, disobedience, repentance, loudness, refinement, struggle, smiles, laughter....the list goes on.

Oftentimes, when this "mix" of our lives happens...it just gets MESSY! Tempers flare, rash words spoken, hearts hurting. Spilled milk, dropped and shattered dish, reluctant learners, doctors appointments, mounds of laundry, forgotten appointments, strained family relationships....all become one big mixed up pot of colors. Swirling, splotching, with no pattern...just chaos. Or so it seems......

And yet as the kids dash outside after a whirlwind of paint and brushes, creativity flowing....I sigh as I realize they have left yet another "mess" for me to clean up. I smile as I look outside and see them laughing, playing, jumping together, and think that I don't dare interrupt such joy. So I lean to pick up this plate of paint...and my first observation is that it seems they have used up the entire bottles of paint...and lament at such "waste". And then I hear the whisper....

look beyond what you see

... I stop and observe this drippy mess...and think....this is such a reflection of my life. Seemingly disjointed, chaotic in it's own precious way. Our lives.... messy. I pick up the globby paintbrushes, and casually begin to stir the colors...mesmerized by their gentle mixing and swirling. Soon I feel almost rythmic as I find the joy in creating order, even design....in the midst of this chaos. At first it is a simple back and forth watching the colors and textures appear...and then I realize...TRUE BEAUTY can come from this chaos. And it did... a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, as I found delight in what I was creating....designing...causing all the colors, swirls, textures, to work together....WORK TOGETHER to create something beautiful.

My thoughts drift back to the chaotic colors that make up my life...bright yellows of my children's laughter and joy, the deep reds of the harsh words spoken that sometimes leave wounded hearts. The bright blues of peace and rest, the pure whites that are the grace of my loving Father...covering my weakness. The haunting blacks, that are the heaviness of broken relationships and lonely hearts...and out of these flow colors too numerous to mention...but all begin to flow... to work together.... Creating a masterpiece almost too beautiful to wash down the sink. And I touch the heart of God once more....

His thoughts become my thoughts. I see for just a moment through His eyes...

I glance outside again, my children playing joyfully and contentedly (for now...) and I marvel. Grace.

"We are assured and know that all things work together and are
fitting into a plan for good to and for those who love God and are called
according to His design and purpose." Romans 8:28 (Amplified)

Quiet Waters

"He leads me beside quiet
waters, He restores my soul..."

Psalm 23:2-3

Another early morning, 2:00am...sick children, the slightest sounds stir and awaken my slumbering eyes. Though I try, I cannot find sleep again as thoughts, anxieties, simple "to do" lists begin to flood my mind. I am struck this morning at the sheer "busyness" that invades our lives, and steals our peace. I have consciously simplified, intentionally chosen a slower pace, a quiet life... and still, the tasks at hand, the pressures of the world, the weight of life...seem to take me to a heightened pace that makes my head spin. Though I must say, I am growing to love these early morning hours... I am reminded of the gentle hymn which was sung tenderly throughout my childhood by my mom...

"I come to the garden
alone, while the dew is still on the roses
(that's really early morning...)

and the voice I hear, falling on my
ear

the Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me, and He talks with
me,

And tells me I am His own.

And the joy we share as we tarry
there,

None other, has ever known."

She touched something early on in her walk with the Lord, that I am just now fully grasping. The intimacy and the filling of the Lord in those early hours, the lingering in his Presence...the basking in the warmth of His Spirit. In my younger years, I "tried" it...as if it were a "to do" list, something to be accomplished rather than experienced. I expected tangible, almost audible experiences with the Lord...needing fuel for the day, for my busy...busy life. A "checkmark" of sorts. And now I realize it wasn't about my needs, or my agendas....it was about Abba's desire to pull me up onto His lap, pull my face close to His and whisper sweet nothings into my spirit.

I think of my babies... and how just yesterday, Emily just spontaneously climbed up into my lap... took both of my cheeks in her tiny hands....looked me directly in the eyes, and said "I love you so much mommy"... then planted the most tender kiss on my lips. I wrapped her in my arms, inhaled her sweetness, and experienced an intimacy that was beyond a child's hug. I touched heaven at that moment....and thought of the scripture that speaks of how much more our Father in heaven cares for us...

Life is busy, "to do" lists...must get done, homeschool lessons must be taught to eager children, dinner must get cooked, laundry must get cleaned, toilets must get scrubbed...but I long for the ability to do it all WHILE abiding deeply in His presence. Brother Lawrence writes of the ability to carry on daily, even mundane tasks yet never breaking the continual communion with the Spirit of God. He says,

"There is no sweeter manner of of living in the world than continuous communion with God."

Brother Lawrence

I long for just that..."continuous communion" with God. How often I try to fill this deep, insatiable thirst....with cheap, substitutes. I try to fill my own cup through relationships, through activity, through intellectual stimulus...and yet I am as dry, and parched as ever. And God beckons...calls unto us...as deep calls unto deep...

"My people...they
have forsaken me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns,
broken cisterns that can hold no water"

Jeremiah 2:13

There is no substitute...busyness, activity...even religious activity...are just counterfeits for the pure, clear, living water that God offers us....in Himself.

Once again, the sun is rising outside...dogs are beginning to bark in the neighborhood, activity is beginning to stir...and while my little ones are still sleeping soundly....it is only a matter of time before they awaken...and our day will start. Yes, my list of tasks is here in front of me, yet today may I receive the gift of Grace that is given so freely. May I somehow walk out my activity...while carefully, quietly...remaining beside those quiet waters...

Practicing for Manhood

The joys of having a son is beyond words for me. From the day he was born, we have always had a special bond. He is exhuberant and curious, he is animated and thoughtful...always a joy to my heart. It has been an interesting transition as he is emerging out of boyhood and dabbling his toes in his own manhood. I have felt it on a very deep level, some with excitement at what lies before him...what he will become; and some with a little apprehension. I know that our relationship must change....in fact, will change...and am learning to flow with the dance as the steps change from all I have known and all I have become accustomed to. As he nears ten years old, there is a unique metamorphosis happening...a growing out of all that he has been, and all that we have been together. I marvel at the change, I welcome it, even through a little sadness. I have a few good friends who have been blessed with only girls, and who have commented from time to time as to how thankful they are that they only have girls...because boys are just so...uhum...different. As they have said that over the years, I have felt a certain sadness for them, because they are truly missing one of the most beautiful joys of God's creation. I adore my girls, I understand them, and I am thrilled by all of their own uniqueness and beauty...but there is something especially wonderful about boys. To watch their innate curiosity as they tinker with gadgets, or run, jump and play with boundless energy, watch their relational interraction with each other, as they practice being hunters, protectors and heroes. Imagining themselves with superhero strengths, they spar and wrestle...practicing their manliness. And then just as my son has played hard and rough...he can crave "special time" just with me, settling in for a snuggle under a warm blanket, and a good book. Freely sharing his thoughts, ideas, dreams he is beautifully verbal, and a delight to listen to as he tells endless stories, and exciting tales. I laugh as he gets carried away in his own imagination, his tempo rising, and his eyes becoming shining and animated! I can't help but get swept up into his world. I am blessed by this little man...sometimes wishing that he would never grow up, never move away...just stay mine...tender and young. And yet the days pass, and the weeks grow into years, and as I watch his height grow dangerously close to passing my own...it is inevitable. He's emerging, changing, growing into what he was created to be...a man.

Not always is this journey so simple though as sitting back and watching him emerge. It is not always accompanied by smiles and laughter...sometimes in the process of the cocoon...there is pain, frustration and tears. Growing pains of the soul...a struggle to become more. Sometimes it is loud and hurtful as hearts try to find their expression in clumsy ten year old words. Practicing manhood is messy business. Often there is a mess of shattered feelings, and broken hearts in the wake of this "practicing". Even the simple pulling away requires a certain tearing as well, and although it is so necessary, it is incredibly awkward. Hugs that used to seem so spontaneous and real in younger years, are replaced by thicker awkward movements as if the memory of how to hug, has been lost somehow..... The old passing away....my heart struggles against it. And so we dance, this tender...precious...young man and I. Two steps forward, one step back. He steps on my toes, and I step on his.

Yet somewhere in the background is the melody of life. If I can gaze into the eyes of this amazing soul, and glimpse a man...and shift my focus from my aching, bruised toes...we can dance. Bruised toes are an inevitable part of this dance....this journey out of boyhood and into glorious manhood. But I gently remind myself that they don't have to be the focus...or the legacy. My desire, my need really....is for us to find joy in the dance, repent over aching toes, and continue to flow to the melody that enraptures this walk. It is only a matter of time, before these last remnants of boyishness have disappeared. The realization that I am preparing him...readying him for the heart of another woman. I weep, and cling desperately to these last years. Breathing in his laughter, his affection...for just as the sun sets on this day...and with it all the activity that it held....we are left only with the memory. Soon...this season will be but a remembrance, and I am trusting that the joy will far outweigh the struggle.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

A time to to be born and a time to die

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance, (italics...mine)

a time to scatter stones and time to gather them

a time to embrace and time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and time for peace....

He has made everything beautiful in its time."

Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

Gratitude

The season of Thanksgiving is upon us. We ventured out for one last "pumpkin patch" bit of fun today with grandaddy. I wish I could write about how cool and crisp the air was on our faces, or how the smells of roasted corn hung in the chilly air. But the truth is, I simply cannot. It was a sweltering 80 degrees. Texas trees don't turn vibrant shades of yellow and orange...they simply go from green, to...well, brown. We sought shade around every corner, and fought honeybees as sweat trickled down our backs and faces. Not ideal, ...not anywhere close to ideal. But I was struck once again, with the opportunities God gives me to choose what I will see. As my children moaned and poured sweat, we stood in a long line, waiting for snow cones. (only in Texas~) I felt my own temperature rising, and my own disappointment lodged in my throat. Sometimes I don't understand, how God can give someone like myself, such a deep love for something...in my case it is coolness and beauty, and then proceed to plant them in a place where it is such an inward struggle to find it.

And yet, somewhere in all the people, in the activity, amidst the thousands of swarming honeybees...I heard the Lord speak, "Go higher, and come in deeper". Satisfaction was not to be had today in the outward...in the activity. Today, it had to be sought. "Seek and you shall find, knock and the door will be opened, ask....and it shall be given to you." I exhaled somewhere between the hay maze and the face painting, and knocked... And I found the beauty of the Lord. It wasn't in the obvious today, no....it had to be sought after. But in the asking...it was given. Grace. Beauty found unexpectedly in the dried corn, or the grain of a weathered fence plank. Grace. Peace in the bluest sky, and the whitest fluffy cloud. Grace.

I touched, just for a second what it was to be "in the world...not of it". I was in the midst of the masses, people at every side, activity all around me. And yet, I lost myself in searching for the colors, the textures, the smells and the sounds of the day. I wish I could say it was through connectedness with my kids...it wasn't. They played...I puttered. At one point, my dad said, "Kimberly...what are you doing?"...as I was focusing the lens of my camera on the piece of wood with rusted nails and remnants of red paint. I smile. Only I know what I am doing...although admittedly, looking foolish to anyone who might be watching me. I even recall taking a picture from the trunk of an enormous oak tree, looking up through the branches toward the sky....and people would walk by me and look up...trying to see what I was taking a picture of! Foolishness indeed.

And so we nibbled on the less than perfect pumpkin bread that I had baked for our outing. We ate snow cones, whirled on the merry go round, climbed through hay mazes, and wiped sweat from our faces. But joy found me, amidst it all. And I was indeed, surprised by it.

A few days ago, I read Ann Voskamp's blog, Holy Experience on "One Thousand Gifts" and was so inspired to begin my gratitude list. In the three days that I have been keeping track, I have been changed. A deep realization that at my core, I tend toward negativity. Seeing often what is wrong...with circumstances, wrong with my marriage, wrong with my homeschool, wrong with my friendships, wrong with my body....and ever on a quest to fix the things that are wrong. These past three days, my spirit has shifted, my eyes are opening...and somehow in the midst of replacing car brakes, overdrawn accounts, tired muscles...I am elated. I am seeing past it, and finding gratefulness THROUGH it somehow. It is the glimpses of the divine...in the ordinary. It is what I have desired my life to be, and yet, not ever tangibly written them down...content that I am being grateful. But in putting pen to paper and putting down the words, it solidifies something deep within my soul. I have watched my husbands heart soften, I have felt his affection, his touch that has been so scarce of late. I have heard tenderness in my children, a desire for more snuggles, and I am changed on a level I cannot explain. As I tucked my Reaghan in to bed the other night, she said, "mommy what happened to you?"...I reply.."what do you mean sweetie?"....she searches for the words and says, "your heart is kind, and you aren't so bossy or something"....I smile, and I tell her. Gratitude. A choice to be thankful, to see beyond what seems to be...to what truly is. And to be in awe....joy floods in at that moment. Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Gentleness, and a Self Control....and so I conclude that Gratitude, ushers in the holy, opens the floodgates to God's Spirit. For the fruit is almost instant, and runs deeper than determination. It is a change in my nature. I thought it was my little secret...only I knew how I was feeling, gracious, loving, peaceful. But apparently it was spilling over, touching the lives of those around me. And it's only been three days....so I number my journal pages...forward to one thousand. I can't wait to see what fills these pages.....and who I become in the process... a few of my entries,

(5)Homeschool in pajamas, snuggled in together weaving subjects like threads of a tapestry...

(7)My husbands strong hands, gently washing my hair...

(12) Young, pudgy fingers that still need help tying shoes...

(22) sleepy, disoriented eyes of a newly awakened child...

(24) tender, repentant heart of a seven year old asking me for forgiveness for her disrespectfulness

(36) A dishwasher that toils...while I play...

Gratitude...Change me Lord, to see your majesty in every little thing. In the common moments, may I experience your greatness and realize that nothing is really a little thing.

"Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing me to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we really experience life and the world." John Milton

"One thing have I desired of the Lord, and that will I seek after. That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold and gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple." Psalm 27:4

Joy in the Midst of Struggle

An early morning, 4:30...being awakened as my husband is just going to bed. I awaken often to the glow of a computer screen in my room into the early morning hours, I toss, turn, mumble chastisement...trying to go back to sleep. This morning I failed, and feeling the emotions and frustrations beginning to simmer within, I rose to sort it all out. An hour spent journaling about it, pouring out my tears on paper. Inward rantings and ravings of all that does not match up to "my plan" of what our family should look like. In this life, my life, there are plenty of things to rant about...hopes dashed, disobedient children, distracted...distant husband...strained finances. Yet in the midst of my swirl of flesh and anger, the gentle words of the Father whispering to my soul..."I am sufficient". The sun is peeking over the horizon....light is dawning on this new day. Will I choose joy? If indeed, "weeping endures for the night, but joy cometh in the morning"....then the choice is mine...

He is my all in all; His Spirit alone is my sustenance...and it is in my abiding deeply in HIM that I find my peace and my rest. I close my eyes and let the glow of the morning sun fall on my face...and watch as it chases the moon from the sky. Lord fill me with your Spirit, that joy might flow as a byproduct...and with it, peace....for this moment, this day, this journey. Patience, to allow the not so perfect parts of my life to do their work in my soul. Kindness, that my eyes might be loving instead of accusatory, and that my words be a salve to the tired, overworked heart of my husband...Gentleness, that can connect with the hearts of my children, and let the little graces and beauty of our days be the focus of our very lives. Goodness, not of my own, for I am wretched and my own goodness only goes skin deep....but yours...that is "good" to the very core; Oh, that I would be robed in your holiness...your goodness, covering and sanctifying all of my lack. And as you immerse me in your Spirit, may this old "self" be controlled by you, crucified by you, ...and when all is said, and all is done...may Love abound.

Love that sees beyond the tiredness, love that endures the distance, love that is not proud and haughty, thinking I have it all together...love that doesn't seek my own good, my own happiness. And Love that willingly tears up this list of wrongs and takes on the heart of you, becoming low...and servant to all.

Meet me in this place...focus my heart on you, and on the multitudes of blessings that abound in the ordinary moments of our lives. May my thoughts linger on these things... these lovely, pure things.

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and peitition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God , which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent and praiseworthy - think about such things." Philippians 4:4-8

Seize the Day

The beautiful days of Fall have finally arrived! It feels as if the days have slowed, and the tempo has relaxed. Our bodies long for the outdoors, the fresh air. There is always something about Fall, when the world of nature seems to be preparing....foraging...as if knowing instinctly that a new season has dawned. We took a break from our regular school schedule and sought out a quiet spot...to walk, to talk, to discover.

Lately, I have struggled with our living in a cookie cutter neighborhood, in the suburbs of the huge metropolis of Dallas/Ft. Worth. It certainly was not the dream of my heart. It was not the life I desired for my children. Concrete driveways, and paved roads, tiny backyards...all seemed to be uninspiring and creating a sort of dulldrum in our minds and hearts. I remembered reading Karen Andreola say once that they had to "seek out" places to find nature at one point in their homeschooling journey, to find things to write in their nature journals. And so today, we ventured out. We found a tucked away park, and were thrilled to discover a little creek running through it, with an abundance of trees, nuts, foliage, animals, to explore!

I marveled as my children came alive. Each one instantly finding their own special discoveries in the veins of a leaf, or in the plop of a turtle as he escaped into the water. Gorgeous trees became our playground as my girls climbed to their hearts content. I was worried that I would have to prompt, to encourage...but God met us in that park. There was no contrived "lesson" from momma...only the soft whisper of the Creator himself as he beckoned us to "taste and see" all that He had created just for us.

Brayden, always delighted with the simple things, was especially amazed at the shapes and varieties of leaves, textures, and sizes. He also drew all of our attention to a wild and aggressive sparring match between two furry squirrels! As they rolled and fought, my children laughed out loud with pure delight! We walked along the creek, stopping and lingering, soaking in the multitudes of sights, smells and sounds....

The beauty of this day was that my children discovered the Divine in the ordinary. They looked beyond a pretty flower or a spider web, and found symmetry, color and details that even I had missed. At one point, Emily, my sweet vibrant five year old...pointed out a "leaf that had air in it"! Sure enough it was a pod of some sort, almost like a "leaf balloon". She promptly popped it open to discover one simple, perfectly round seed right in the middle.

Upon finding a perfectly dried dandelion, Reaghan, my tender...contemplative seven year old, insisted that she make a wish. Closing her eyes tightly, her little heart searched for just the right wish, not taking lightly this ceremonial blowing of the dandelion. Once she had found it, she gave a barely noticible little nod of her head, then blew ever so sweetly across the face of that fuzzy ball. I am convinced that whatever she wished, that her Father in Heaven was so delighted with her tenderness, and awe...that He just might answer that little unspoken prayer.

As the day drew to a close, I was delighted as my precious boy came up and showed me this leaf. "What does it remind you of momma??" ...."It looks like a heart buddy".....then as he insisted I take the picture of it...I noticed the heart, lying perfectly over the tender palm of his hand. My son....my only son....my heart skipped a silent beat, as I thought of another "only son" with his palms outstretched...and a gaping hole in the middle of his hand. Nail holes...a crucified life....a broken body...broken for me...for these beautiful babies of mine. Those holes, an emblem of love...deep abiding love....drawing me into himself. The breezes of heaven swept over me at that moment. These are the moments, gathered up, collected together...that make up the fabric of our very lives. May I always remember to seize the day, to see beyond what is there, and to abide in that place.

Mesmerized

I am mesmerized by the handiwork of our Creator! Sometimes looking through a lens, I can see intricacies that get lost in the bigger picture. To see the detail of a flower, perfect symmetry of the brances of a tree, or the tender melodies of a babbling brook. I am moved to worship. It is a cathedral unlike any church I have ever been to. My soul soars and my spirit is nourished. I do not worship the creation itself...I am moved beyond it...through it really, as it is but a glimpse, or a mere reflection of the magnificence and slendor of God himself.


 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning penned it so beautifully, "The earth is crammed with heaven and every common bush afire with God, but only he who sees takes off his shoes."



Oh Lord, that I would gaze deeply and long at the beauty of you. In every crashing wave, in every detail of my childs face, in every heave of my husbands breathing as he lays beside me at night. May I somehow soak it in, may I somehow inhale your very Spirit at that moment. My shoes are off...I welcome these miraculous glimses of your holiness. I revel in you.

A Day of Play With My Babies

 

I am amazed at the beauty of my children...ashamed at how often I take for granted their presence in my life. Lately, as I have begun to live more consciously, it seems every moment becomes heightened with them. I am noticing the way an eye twinkles, or the bow of their lips when they are telling me a silly story. I am cherishing the moments more and more, realizing how painfully quickly they seem to slip away.

 

I am also so keenly aware at my job in preserving their little hearts. A few careless months of letting them play too often with the neighbors, or too many movies or video games...and they become lifeless, dull, and bored. The light slips out of their eyes, their creativity disappears into some unknown place, and their friendship with each other becomes full of pettiness and irritation. I am so thankful at the mercy of the Lord, and of his wisdom that so often rescues me and covers my weakness. A few minor adjustments to our schedules, to our hearts and the flow of our home...and they are on the way back. The light is returning, the spring in their voices, and almost a sense of wanting to stay close. Interestingly,the boredom is now with the friends, not with each other or with our home.

 

How blessed I am! What thrill to be able to spend nearly every waking moment of my children's lives with them. How tragic that so many moms, have to resort to scheduled efficiency in their homes. Early morning rushes to school, quick quick quick, out the door and off to school, where someone else helps them with reading, someone else explains math problems, someone else offers them praise and affirmation. Someone else is depositing into their hearts and minds....and is it what they should be depositing? Yet, I cannot lament their situation, for it a choice that they have made...but I know that it is not my situation, it is not my choice. And I am so grateful. Does it require sacrifice?...I suppose on some level it does...but somewhere along the way, I don't really know what defines sacrifice anymore. Sacrifice of what? Sacrifice of busyness? Sacrifice of self absorption? Sacrifice of MY time, MY goals, MY purpose? Because somewhere amidst the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and teaching cursive, and the priceless conversations, I have found myself. I have found myself as I nuzzle the neck of my baby as we read a beloved story for the umpteenth time. I find myself in their laughter, and I find myself in every tear, and in every skinned knee....I find myself in working through defiant attitudes, and broken hearts. One thing, I know for sure....I wouldn't trade these years for the world. What could one offer me instead? More money?....no thanks. More prestige?....nothing else could be as rewarding. More time?...for what exactly? People exchange themselves...all of themselves...for more money, more time, more prestige...more of ....something that is elusive....and in the end they have sacrificed the very things that would give it all meaning. No thanks. I'll stick with the spilled cereal in the mornings, the million and half questions they ask, and the sleepy nighttime rituals I have grown to love so dearly. For I can truly think of nothing that I'd rather remember at the end of this life...than the yummy smells of a child with freshly washed hair as he nestles up under my chin for a lingering hug, or the tiny, squeaky voice of my little girl as she learns to read, or a rainy afternoon with all of us hunkered down, piled onto my bed...enjoying each other. What else is there...really?